


King of the Marble Halls

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Follows on from King of the Antlered Throne, M/M, Romance, Thorin's marriage is arranged, Thranduil and Balin do what they believe is best but just create misery all round
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:57:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This follows on from King of the Antlered Throne.  Thranduil and Thorin have now been lovers for a year and, although their people look askance, yet they are inclined to think: whatever makes our king happy…..  But, being happy is not the prerogative of kingship and, being king means carrying the burden of a crown with all its heavy responsibilities. Can love survive such a burden?  And will Thranduil cruelly reject Thorin so that he can marry and produce an heir?</p><p>Follow-up stories: Kings of the Forest and Mountain, The Kings and the Elf Lord and More!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Duty and Confrontation

King of the Marble Halls

Pt I

Duty

Thranduil awoke with Thorin clasped in his arms. This was the best sort of morning, when they were together, sharing a bed and sharing their love. This week, the elven king was visiting Erebor and he knew that the days would run headlong towards that moment when they must part once more and he returned to his palace in Mirkwood.

They worked hard at governing their kingdoms so that time could be spared for each other. Of course, that time was never enough, but it was better than no time at all. Yet, when they were apart, it was as though each had lost a limb and they limped through life, functioning as best they could. And when they were together, it was as if they were whole again and their lives had been made complete by each other.

For a whole year now, since the death of Smaug and their victory at the Battle of the Five Armies, they had lived their lives both for their people and for each other and the sweetness and intensity of their love was a gift so special and unexpected that they always looked over each other’s shoulders, afraid that it would end.

Thranduil glanced down at the dwarf as he slept in the protective circle of his arms. What had he done in life to deserve such beauty, he wondered? He gently stroked the glorious mane of black hair and then bent his head to tenderly place a kiss upon those finely moulded lips. And he belongs to me, he thought. Totally. As I to him. And it was good to feel such absolute possession.

Thorin stirred a little and the elf, aware of him moving against the length of his body, felt an urge to make love to him once more. But, he knew that Balin was waiting for him and so he carefully unwound himself from Thorin’s embrace and slipped from his bed and from the room.

Thorin’s friend and counsellor had asked him for a private interview the previous evening, quietly and without Thorin’s knowledge, and now the elven king approached his chambers with a certain apprehension. And he was not surprised when the white-haired dwarf paced the room and gave him uncomfortable glances. It was obvious that he had something very difficult to say and Thranduil’s heart grew cold.

“Tell me,” he finally commanded. 

Balin sat down behind his desk and, steepling his fingers, said abruptly: “This affair with Thorin must come to an end.”

It was as bad as anything that Thranduil thought it might be and, disguising his fear, the king raised an icy eyebrow. “Must it?” he asked harshly. “And who are you, Balin, to decide on the paths of kings?”

“The path of a king is never of his own choosing,” was the reply. And then a silence fell between them.

“The Council has waited a year,” the dwarf finally continued, “in the hope that your passion for each other would burn itself out, that it would somehow consume itself.”

“But it hasn’t,” said Thranduil quietly. “Nor will it ever.”

“I might have guessed,” sighed Balin, “from that first moment that you looked at him all those years ago. But, now I am asking that you give him up.”

“I shall never give him up,” growled the elf lord, “unless you can adequately explain to me why.”

Balin rested his head on his hands for a long moment and then he looked up and said: “You have a fine son, Legolas.”

“Yes,” said Thranduil and he felt a dread because he could see what direction Balin was set upon.

“He is your heir, the Prince of Mirkwood.”

“Yes,” said Thranduil.

“But, Thorin has no heir. His nephews were both killed in that final battle and he has no sons to succeed him. When he dies, either Dain or the sons of Dain will follow after, and it is not the will of the people. They despise Dain for not coming when Thorin called and for only turning up with an army when the treasures of Erebor were at stake. Once he succeeds, they fear a flood of dwarves from the Iron Hills, dwarves who do not know the ways of Erebor but who would be awarded positions of power and would thus control their lives.”

Thranduil stared at his hands for a long time.

“Surely you must have guessed,” continued Balin gently, “that Thorin would eventually have to get married and produce a son for his throne?”

And if Thranduil had guessed, then it was a thought that he had pushed to one side. But, he knew that this was the foremost duty of kingship. And it was a cruel and gilded cage. 

At last he sighed. “But, even if I were willing to give up Thorin, Thorin would never give up me. Of that I am certain.”

“But, if your relationship is maintained after a marriage is organised for him, then that would dishonour the new bride. You do understand that, don’t you?” And Balin gave the king a serious look from underneath his brows.

“Yes, I understand,” said Thranduil. “It would be wrong and would undermine the queen in every way.”

Then he got up and prepared to leave the room. “I shall do my best,” he said sadly and when Balin rose to thank him, he could see the pain in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said as he patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. And he was not slow to understand the cruelty of the situation.

.o00o.

Pt II

Confrontation

When Thorin awoke and found the elf lord absent, he was surprised. Always, he was there and their early mornings were spent in loving play before they finally arose and bathed together. He got up quickly, threw on a silken robe and went in search of him. 

He was not far away and Thorin found him standing on a balcony that led off from the adjacent room. The elven king stared out at the woods and hills and mountains, which already had a covering of snow, and seemed lost in thought. Thorin came up behind him and, sliding his arms around his waist, pulled him tightly to him and kissed him on the shoulder. For the barest moment, Thranduil pressed back against him; but, then, he pulled away.

Walking to the parapet, he said coldly: “I shall be leaving for Mirkwood this afternoon.”

Thorin took a stuttering and hesitant step towards him. “But – but you were staying another week. Is there a problem that requires your attention?”

“No – no problem,” replied the elf, gazing at the distant horizon. And then he turned towards Thorin and regarded him steadily and coolly. “I’m just bored.”

The dwarf felt totally confused. “Bored?” he asked. “You mean with my court, with Erebor?”

Thranduil sighed languidly. “In part,” he said.

“Just wait a day,” urged Thorin, “and I can return with you to Mirkwood if your own court is your preference. I would not miss a moment with you.” Then, when Thranduil did not reply, he continued: “Tell me what it is about my palace that bores you and I shall set about improving things, if that is possible.”

It seemed to Thorin that, at that moment, Thranduil withdrew from him. His eyes became hooded and his lips seemed to twist in a cold sneer. “I am bored with Erebor and I am bored with you, Thorin Oakenshield,” he said. And his voice sounded harsh in the dwarf’s ears.

Thorin was stunned and wondered if he had misheard. “Bored with me?” he asked.

“Yes, with you,” repeated Thranduil; and he gave a world-weary sigh. 

Thorin searched the mask that a moment ago had been Thranduil’s face. “Is this a jest?” he asked.

“And why would I jest with you?” was the stony response.

“Because, only a few hours ago, you held me in your arms and told me how much you loved me,” said the dwarf desperately.

“Things change,” replied the elven king curtly and he turned back to the parapet.

Thorin seized him angrily by the arm and forced him about again. “I don’t understand,” he said fiercely. “Explain yourself to me. In what way have I failed you?”

Thranduil slowly removed Thorin’s fingers from his arm. “You are growing tedious,” he said. “Your lack of sophistication is one of the reasons why I now find you tiresome. Your unimaginative love-making and your child-like devotion affect me with an ennui that is mind-numbing and it has snuffed out the flame of love. Thus, when I awoke this morning, I discovered that my love for you had died.”

“Just like that?” said Thorin, gazing with disbelief into the elf’s cold face.

“Just like that,” repeated Thranduil.

“And now you will return to Mirkwood to find yourself a more sophisticated lover?”

“Probably,” said the elf. And, suddenly, Thorin was filled with both jealousy and rage. He seized Thranduil by the shoulders in such a powerful grip that it was frightening and he brought his face close to the elf’s own.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “Too much has passed between us.” And he pulled the elf’s lips down upon his own and kissed him passionately. But, the elf remained unmoved by the intensity of his ardour and his arms hung loosely down at his side. In the end, Thorin pushed him away in disgust.

“You are not the Thranduil that I knew,” he cried. “You are not the Thranduil that I loved.”

“Nothing is fixed,” said Thranduil in frigid tones. “Nothing remains the same.”

“Except I believed you when you said that our love was forever,” snarled Thorin bitterly.

But Thranduil just shrugged and walked from the room, leaving a broken Thorin behind him.

.o00o.

Thranduil went in search of Balin and the old dwarf was shocked when he saw his face because the king was so drawn and pale and his eyes were full of grief.

“I have done it,” he said. “I have broken with Thorin and he now believes that I no longer love him. I shall leave in a few hours when I have gathered my retainers about me and you will never see me again. I hope that you find a good queen for Thorin and that she gives him the love that he deserves.” And he swung on his heel and departed.

Balin slumped back in his chair. What had he done? And yet he could see no alternative. And he took a deep draught from his cup of wine. He would go in search of Thorin once Thranduil had left and try to comfort him. But, he wouldn’t mention marriage for some months in case this aroused his king’s suspicions. It was a matter that would need to be delicately handled.

.o00o.

Thorin lay sprawled on his bed and felt a grief too deep for tears. His body ached for Thranduil and his heart felt split in two. How could he live his life without him? And yet a deep anger burned inside him: he had trusted him with his soul and, for a whole year, he had believed that he was loved. Never trust an elf, his grandfather had said. And he had learned that lesson the hard way. He felt emotionally destroyed and wondered if he would ever rise from his bed.

There was a quiet knock and Balin entered the room. “Get up!” he commanded. “The elf has gone.”

“Leave me,” he said.

“What! To wallow in your own misery? Get up! If not for yourself then for your people.” And he yanked the coverlet from the bed and pulled Thorin to his feet.

The dwarf looked a mess and so Balin filled a bath and stripped him like a child and bathed him as he sat like one turned to stone in the water. Then he helped him get out and dried him and dressed him in clean clothes.

“Now we shall go downstairs and eat,” he said.

“I can’t face them, Balin,” whispered Thorin. But, the dwarf insisted. And, because word had spread that the elf had cast off their king, everyone treated Thorin with a gentle kindness.

For some weeks, he walked around with a stunned look on his face. But, gradually, remnants of the old Thorin began to surface although this was a sadder, hollower version, one who never smiled or laughed but somehow managed to function at a competent level.

And, after two months had gone by, Balin came to see Thorin, who was still looking haggard and pale, and said: “I think it is time, my king, for you to consider marriage.” 

.o00o.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two chapters to this story. Is that the end of Thorin and Thranduil's relationship and will Thorin now find a suitable bride, produce a son and heir and live happily ever after? Next chapter coming soon.


	2. Comprehension and Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balin has arranged a marriage for Thorin in an attempt to produce an heir. Will Thorin be attracted to the beautiful proposed bride and do his duty? Or will he find it impossible to forget the elven king who has abandoned him so cruelly?
> 
> Second and final chapter.

Pt I

Comprehension

Thorin had to admit that all the reasons for marriage that Balin laid before him were sensible ones. He certainly needed an heir and maybe he also needed the love and companionship of a queen. He desperately missed Thranduil and perhaps Balin was right when he said that Thorin should look for another to love although he found it impossible to imagine a replacement for the elven king.

The lethargy that Thorin had felt ever since Thranduil had left him meant he had no energy to gainsay Balin’s wishes and he somehow drifted into an agreement with the old councillor. And so, messengers were sent into all the dwarven kingdoms to seek out a suitable bride for the King under the Mountain.

In Mirkwood, Thranduil heard of this search and, for days, he shut himself away in his room with his pain and his thoughts.

But Balin had not taken into account one thing: the dwarven community knew about the exceptional love that Thorin of Erebor had felt for Thranduil of Mirkwood and even the temptation of a crown failed to act as a lure. And the fathers of many unmarried dwarven maids discussed among themselves how they did not believe that Thorin would easily forget the elven king and that there was a danger that this would bring shame upon the head of any woman that he married. 

But Brangwyn Valasdottir had no such fears. Her father, Narvi, was a smith and he was ill. He could no longer support them and it was time for her to do what she could. She was a good-looking dwarf woman and both she and her father had always assumed that, when the time came, she would have her pick of suitors. Well, the time had come and marriage with Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, seemed like a possibility. She had seen him once as he had passed through her village and he was good to look upon. His wealth was boundless and she had heard no slur upon his character. The only problem seemed to be this passion he had developed for Thranduil, the elven king. But, Brangwyn was a strong and intelligent woman and felt ready to cope with that. She was not a foolish romantic and her only task as queen would be to produce an heir.

And so, when the messenger came, she returned with him to the Mountain.

.o00o.

Balin interviewed Brangwyn and was impressed. He had almost given up any hope of finding a bride for Thorin but here was a suitable candidate. She was fair of face and both pleasant and intelligent of manner; but, chiefly, she was sensible and pragmatic and did not seem to be looking for love. He found himself speaking openly and honestly about Thorin and, in the end, she said thoughtfully, “I think I need to see him – and to see him on his own.”

.o00o.

When Balin introduced Brangwyn to Thorin in his apartments, she was shocked. She had only seen him 6 months earlier when he had looked in the prime of life but now he was haggard and careworn and there was more silver in his hair than she remembered. Balin, feeling rather embarrassed at all his manoueverings, backed quickly out of the room and hoped that the woman could manage the situation on her own.

Brangwyn gave Thorin a kind smile and then said: “May I sit down?” and she gestured to the chairs where he and Thranduil had first sat long ago. 

Thorin started almost as if he had not been aware of her presence and then mumbled his apologies. Brangwyn sat down and the dwarf did the same, waiting silently for her to begin the conversation. She spoke with great honesty, telling him of her ancestry and her current situation which had driven her to seek marriage.

“I am not sentimental or romantic,” she said. “I am merely looking for a good dwarf to marry, someone who can protect me and my father and someone that I could feel affection for. Moreover, if I married a king, then I would also have a certain measure of power with which to help my people. I have always enjoyed being involved in charitable works,” she laughed. 

Then Thorin looked at her properly and found there was much to like. She had a pretty face and a well-rounded dwarven figure, her voice was pleasant to listen to and her conversation drew him in. Perhaps he could live with this one, he thought. But he felt the need to tell her all his heart.

“You must understand,” he said quietly, “that the elven king was the only one I ever loved – and the only one I shall ever love. There can never be love, only a kind of friendship, between us.”

“Yes,” she replied, “I understand that.” And she touched him gently on the arm.

Thorin felt compelled to tell her the worst. “And I feel that you also need to understand that I might not be capable of giving you children, thus failing to accomplish the main purpose of our marriage.”

“Because…?” she asked.

“Because dwarven beauty no longer attracts me. I am only stirred by bodies that are tall and willowy and by hair that is blond and straight.” He looked at her steadily. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

Brangwyn did – she was not a child. But his confession did not deter her. “Tell me more about your love for Thranduil,” she said. “I would know all about you – and about the one you once loved.”

“Still love,” whispered Thorin.

Then Thorin told her all about his relationship with the elven king right from the beginning: he told her of the attraction and the hate, of the tenderness and the love, until the light began to fail. But, still they sat there, murmuring together.

“But, I don’t understand,” she said finally. “If you loved each other so much, why did he suddenly cast you off?”

Thorin looked ashamed and was silent for a while. “He said I was boring,” he finally muttered. “In bed.”

Brangwyn stared open-mouthed at him for a moment and then, to his horror, she laughed. When she saw the hurt in his eyes, she reached out to him again and said: “No, I apologise. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at the whole stupid business.” Then she looked at him seriously and said: “Has it never occurred to you that, somehow, this entire situation has been contrived?”

Thorin gaped. “Contrived?” he asked.

“Do you honestly believe that the love that existed between you and Thranduil could suddenly vanish in a puff of smoke for no good reason? And all that rubbish about you being boring in bed! I just don’t believe it.” And she giggled.

The tiniest flicker of hope suddenly awoke in Thorin’s heart. “So, what is this all about?” he asked.

She sat frowning for a while and then finally said: “How long after the split did Balin suggest you get married?”

“Some months,” he said.

“And didn’t you make a connection?”

“What connection?” was Thorin’s puzzled reply.

“Well, it’s obvious to me: Balin wanted you to get married and produce an heir and he somehow persuaded Thranduil to do the noble, self-sacrificing thing and remove himself from your life.”

Thorin stared wide-eyed at her and then gasped: “The fool! The stupid fool!” And the light came back into his eyes and he leaped to his feet as if he would set off for Mirkwood that very moment.

But Brangwyn grasped him by the wrist and pulled him back into his chair. “Don’t you see? Nothing’s changed,” she said. “You still need an heir and marriage would appear to be the only option. You will never make Thranduil change his mind. He is doing this because of the power of his love for you and he believes that what he has done is for the best.”

Thorin sat back down again in despair.

Brangwyn laughed: “My king,” she declared, “you despair too soon….because I have a plan……an alternative. And this is what you need to do.”

.o00o.

Pt II

Resolution

Thorin and Brangwyn went together to visit Balin that very night. And Thorin’s face was grim. The misery of the past few months finally overcame him and he ranted at the elderly dwarf, accusing him of destroying his relationship with Thranduil. And Balin admitted to it and asked wretchedly for his king’s forgiveness.

“I shall never forgive you!” shouted the king. But Brangwyn gently put her hand upon him.

“Hush,” she said. “Enough. He is your friend and only did what he thought was best for you because he loves you. As did Thranduil. Now, tell him what he must do to make amends.”

Then Thorin sat Balin down and told him of Brangwyn’s plan.

And early the next morning, Balin set out with his brother, Dwalin, for the court of Dain in the Iron Hills. And Thorin and Brangwyn impatiently waited for their return.

The brothers were gone for two weeks and, in that time, Thorin kept company with his new friend; and his court, seeing them always together, optimistically hoped that he had found the one who would be their new queen. Then, at last, Balin and Dwalin returned with good news and Thorin set out for Mirkwood.

Brangwyn came to see him off and Thorin gratefully kissed her on the forehead. I shall laden you with gold for what you have done,” he smiled, “and I shall find you any number of good husbands, all worth ten of me.”

Brangwyn grinned cheekily. “Alas, my lord king,” she said, “I fear you underestimate yourself and that I shall need at least ten husbands to make up for your loss.”

And Thorin laughed as he mounted his horse.

“Stay here and wait for me, Brangwyn,” he said. “There will then be time to thank you further if I succeed. And I shall be in need of your comfort if I fail.”

.o00o.

When Thorin rode up to the gates of the palace of Mirkwood and announced himself, the guards there looked at each other anxiously. Then, whilst one politely asked him to wait until his presence was made known to their king, the other hastened to tell Thranduil that Thorin Oakenshield had finally come.

The king was dining with his court and sat at the head of a long table on a throne-like chair. “Let him approach,” he said. Then, as the guard departed, he turned quietly to Ethril, a handsome courtier who sat next to him and whispered, “He is come at last. Are you ready?” And the elf lord nodded.

Thranduil’s face was still and without emotion, but his heart thundered in his breast as he thought that he would see Thorin once more. He had known without a doubt that he would come to plead with him and, although he also knew he must reject him brutally yet again, his anguish was almost more than he could bear.

Thorin was shown into the dining hall and all the elf lords turned to stare at the one who had captured their king’s heart. And Thranduil nearly let out a cry and lurched from his chair when he saw how pale and wan were the dwarf’s looks. Instead, he maintained an icy calm and gestured to a seat on his right hand. “You are welcome, Thorin, King under the Mountain,” he said coldly.

Thorin smiled to himself when he saw how cool and controlled his lover’s demeanour was: he had always been so good at maintaining his composure. And, although he himself did a remarkably similar job, his heart was also pounding in his breast.

The seat which was being shown to him was already occupied by a beautiful young elf lord. But, at his king’s gesture, he arose and bowed courteously. Then, as Thorin bowed his thanks in return, the elf perched upon the armrest on the far side of Thranduil’s throne, his arm draping in a familiar way across the back of the chair whilst his hand came to rest upon the king’s hair. His fingers played languidly with one of his golden locks and he gazed insolently across at Thorin’s face.

When Thorin had discussed his plans with Brangwyn, it had all seemed so simple. He would seek a private audience with Thranduil at his court, confront him with the truth and bring him back to Erebor. Now, looking at this handsome young elf lord, he felt confused and unsure and jealousy began to eat away at his composure.

“Your sophisticated new friend?” he asked curtly.

“But, of course,” said Thranduil silkily. “Did I not tell you how it would be?” And he turned his face up to the young elf who bent and kissed him on the lips.

For a moment, Thorin nearly lost all his hard-won control, but he gripped the arms of his own chair and did not give in to the urge to kill the both of them where they sat. The handsome courtier gave the king one last, lingering kiss and then looked tauntingly across at Thorin.

“Why have you come, Thorin?” Thranduil then asked. “There is nothing for you here.” But, his voice nearly broke when he saw the anguished look in the dwarf’s beautiful and eloquent eyes. 

Thorin was feeling the pain of a public humiliation but he pressed on through gritted teeth. “I have come to speak with you,” he replied.

“Then speak,” said the elven king, and he made an amused gesture around the room. “We are all friends here.”

“I would speak with you in private,” hissed Thorin.

“Ah, yes,” murmured Thranduil with a smile playing on his lips, “but you must know that only one is privy to my chambers.” And he reached up and stroked the elf lord on the face with long fingers.

“You shame me, lord king,” muttered Thorin angrily.

“No, you shame yourself,” replied Thranduil in cutting tones, “by coming here to beg.”

Thorin half-rose from his chair in a fury and Thranduil tensed and waited for an attack, all the while wondering if his cruel provocation had pushed him too far.

But Thorin hesitated and caught himself before committing any act of violence. Unexpectedly and before a startled court, he flung himself at the king’s feet and, seizing the hem of his silver robe, brought it to his lips and kissed it.

“And if I must beg then I will beg,” he cried. “And if I must speak of my love openly, before everyone gathered here, then so be it.” And he pressed his lips to Thranduil’s hand and wept.

And finally, the elven king’s control forsook him. When he felt the soft lips and the silken beard of the dwarf king press against his hand and felt the wetness of his tears, he could no longer sit by and watch the one he loved debase himself before his entire court and, with a quick gesture, he dismissed everyone from the room. And, when he looked up, Thorin found that he was alone with Thranduil at last.

“You have won your private audience,” said the king. “Now be seated and quickly tell me what it is you want.”

Thorin sat back upon his chair. “I have found the woman who would make me a suitable queen and bedmate.” This time it was Thranduil’s face that quivered with pain.

“And I have also found my heir.”

“Your heir?” a puzzled Thranduil exclaimed.

“And, of course,” continued Thorin, “since an heir negates the obligation of getting married, I have come here to suggest that we renew our former relationship……we have suffered this pain and anguish for too long.” And he reached across the table to take Thranduil by the hand.

But Thranduil drew back. “First you must explain,” he said.

Then Thorin told him all about Brangwyn and her suggestion for resolving the issue. 

“The people want no king except a king of Erebor,” he began.

“And that is the heir that you must supply them with,” said Thranduil. 

“But,” continued Thorin, “Dain has a young son…..”

“…..who is totally unacceptable,” interrupted the elf.

“….who is also called Thorin, a name common in the heirs of Durin,” continued the dwarf calmly. “I met him after our last great battle and he reminds me very much of Fili and Kili – if they had lived. He is good-natured, intelligent and courageous, fitting material to be moulded into a future king. Two weeks ago, I sent Dain an offer which he has since accepted. I told him that my choice was either to get married and beget an heir, thus cutting out his line completely, or I could proclaim young Thorin my heir…..”

“…which takes us no further forward….” shrugged the elven king impatiently.

“…..but only on condition that he was sent to my court to be my fosterling.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Thranduil softly. “I see at last.” And his eyes grew bright with hope. 

“He would remain in my palace, as my adopted son until I died, learning all about Erebor and the ways of its people, getting to know everyone as they would get to know him, so that, by the time he came to succeed me, he would be truly welcomed and accepted as Thorin III…..And so, you see, my beloved,” said Thorin gazing tenderly into Thranduil’s eyes, “there is no need for this cruel separation.”

Then Thranduil fell at Thorin’s feet and laid his head in the dwarf’s lap. “So much pain,” he said quietly. “How can you find it in yourself to forgive me and ask me to return?”

“Because I love you,” smiled Thorin, gently caressing his golden hair, “as I know you love me.”

At this, Thranduil seized Thorin’s hand and pressed his lips to the dwarf’s calloused palm. “You must know that every cruel word I said to you carried not one iota of truth. My heart bled when those lies passed my lips and, when I saw how it tortured you, it was as if a knife twisted within me.” The elf lord raised his eyes imploringly to Thorin’s face, begging for his understanding. “It hurt so much,” he whispered. And Thorin bent and, lifting his chin, kissed him with his soft, warm lips and opened the king’s mouth with a gently exploring tongue. And Thranduil knew that all had been forgiven. 

Then they both stood as one and drew each other into a long embrace. “Stay with me,” murmured Thranduil, “because, this time, I feel that I shall never let you go.”

.o00o.

They laughingly tumbled across the rooms of Thranduil’s apartment, embracing and kissing and leaving a trail of clothing in their wake. “Prepare to be bored,” gasped Thorin as the elven king pushed him down upon the bed.

“I’m afraid,” said Thranduil, falling on top of him and kissing his throat, “that if you bore me, you shall have to repeat the exercise until you learn how to do things to my satisfaction.”

“But you’re never satisfied,” laughed Thorin.

“So,” murmured Thranduil, urgently exploring Thorin’s body, “it’s best that we get started then.”

But, at this critical moment, Thorin suddenly pushed him off and said sharply: “I forgot to ask: that elf lord in the dining hall – was he really one of your ‘sophisticated’ friends?”

“No,” laughed Thranduil, “just a regular friend who agreed to play a game.”

“Well, that’s all right then,” sighed Thorin and he pulled the elven king back into his arms and proceeded to bore him to death for the rest of the night.

.o00o.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written more stories in this series. The next is: Kings of the Forest and Mountain. If you want to know what happens to Brangwyn and are wondering if Thorin and Thranduil continue to be happy when they return to Erebor, look out for the story under the Two Kings tag.
> 
> Hope you have enjoyed these stories so far. Can't wait to see the confrontation between Thorin and Thranduil in The Desolation of Smaug! (And, yes, I've seen it now. The confrontation was one of the best bits in the film!)


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